Despite his glib response, Burnout found that Lethe's comment brought more than a bit of doubt with it. If ^the Kodiak wasn't there, then Burnout's list of options dwindled considerably.

As he ran, he realized that he was nervous. Something he hadn't experienced since the day he discovered the full extent of his power at age seventeen.

He wasn't so much nervous that the Kodiak would be dead, but more that the old man might just as well decide against helping them, or even worse, might tell Burnout that he was unable to help. That the Heart would remain forever just beyond his grasp.

What's happening to me? he wondered. Before Lethe, this kind of self-doubt was a dim feeling easily quashed or alleviated by action. Now, with an expanding awareness of the world around him came a deeper understanding of how dangerous this whole situation had become.

Lethe's comments about the smuggler still bothered him, but he didn't know why. Her death had been more than warranted. Maybe it was remorse. Maybe it was that he hadn't thought it through completely. That Lethe was right; Burnout had gotten lucky. In this game, against these odds, and with such high stakes, luck just didn't cut it.

He'd have to be more careful in the future, maybe even talk to Lethe when he made a plan.

The very idea of consulting someone before making a move caused an itch in a place he just couldn't scratch. But the truth of it was that the spirit looked at things from a whole different angle. And it was a viewpoint that could prove valuable.

Burnout was still considering this when they crested a nearly vertical rise and then stepped out onto the edge of a small lake. Almost four hundred meters across and ringed on three sides by dense forest, the placid green waters looked cool and clean. Just off shore, Burnout saw a fish jump, a huge salmon that he suspected had fought its way back up the streams to the lake to spawn and die.

"This is Cat Lake," he said. "The Kodiak ice-fishes here when the lean season makes hunting hard."

"It is beautiful."

Burnout said nothing, but simply circled the lake to where the rocky ground sloped up gently from the shore. As he scrambled up the rise, he looked out over the vast valley that fell away to his side, and for just an instant, he was a boy again, clinging to his mother's hand, frightened, tired, but filled with awe as he looked out into the vast wilderness.

His whole childhood had been spent within the confines of the sprawl, and even though he'd been told such wild places still existed, he'd never really been able to imagine just how awe-inspiring they could be. He had gripped his mother's hand tightly, laughing with a giddy, intoxicated humor.

His mother had just kept pulling him onward.

Now, his nervousness increased as they crested the small rise, and Burnout stopped.

Just a hundred meters ahead, across smooth granite, the tower rose into the sky, its rough-timber skeleton frame topped with a circular turret. At the base of the tower, a cabin had been built using the huge main struts as a support base.

From the small smokestack on the cabin's roof, a pale gray cloud puffed skyward until it was caught by the breeze and dispelled. Burnout's cybernetic sense of smell caught the scent, and for the first time since beginning his journey, a tremendous weight fell from his shoulders. He knew that musky scent, and it brought with it many memories, flooding him and leaving him with one feeling.

It smelled like home.

Suddenly, he heard a sound echo from deep within the tree line. Burnout readied himself and within a minute, a huge shambling form bearing an impossibly huge armload of firewood pushed through the trees, heading for the cabin. The form was that of a man, taller even than Burnout, though the cyberzombie remembered him as being much bigger.

The man wore loose-fitting linens and a dark fur coat. The clothing only added to the impression of vast size and power, though the man's clothing did nothing to hide the bulging gut. A snow-white beard rolled down his chest, joining in a glorious snarl with the salt and pepper locks coming from the man's head.

The man took two more steps before stopping. He tilted his head high. Wide nostrils flared, sniffing.

Then, with a move so fast it seemed impossible for so much mass to move so swiftly, the man dropped the wood and turned in Burnout's direction. The large double- headed axe, which had been hanging from the man's belt, seemed to materialize in his huge paws.

He sniffed again, his tiny eyes closed. Then, in a deep growl, the old man spoke. "I don't know your scent, and you don't belong here. Leave the way you came."

Burnout felt a strange tremor run though his body, something that told him not to disobey. He laughed.

"Old Kodiak, it's me. Burn… Billy Madson. It's been a long time since you first taught me the beginning ways of the path. My mother brought me, remember?"

The old man's defensive posture didn't falter. "I remember my own, creature. Billy Madson was very gifted, headstrong, and impatient. You are not him. Leave now."

Burnout took a step forward. "Old Kodiak, things have changed, more than I'd like to admit. But it is me, Billy Madson. I've returned to you because I need your help, and you are the last option I have. Please, you must help me."

The old man's eyes finally focused on Burnout. They seemed to grow bright, and Burnout knew he was looking into the astral. The Kodiak stared for a minute, then stepped back. "Billy, my son, what has been done to you?" The deep growl took on the slightest quail of despair. "There is so little of you left, and even that fractured bit of spirit is completely overwhelmed by something golden that is trapped inside you."

The old man stepped forward. "Have you come for me to free your spirit from this abomination? To set things right with you again?"

Burnout shook his head sadly, abruptly aware of his chrome body, suddenly more than a bit ashamed of what he'd become. "No, Kodiak. I've laid my bets, and I don't doubt that the end will come soon. But first I must talk to you."

The old man frowned. "My son, what could one who has forsaken everything the fates meant him to be have to say?"

Burnout felt those words like a blow, but still a smile came to his lips as his hands dipped into the cloth at his waist.

"What I have to say can wait. First, it's what I have to show you." Burnout held the Heart out toward the old man, the sunlight catching the perfection of its creation, sending out a dazzling wash of golden light that made the sun seem pale.

Under the sparkle of the Heart's light, the old man sank to his knees. "Oh, my son. I fear for you, for you hold the beginning, or possibly the end, of the world in your hands."

Ryan sank into the bottom of his seat as the Phoenix II LAV accelerated into the air. The wind had little effect on the heavy vehicle, and the ride was solid, if a little jerky as Dhin tried to keep them below local radar.

Dhin's voice came over the tacticom. "ETA forty-three minutes."

Ryan nodded. "Copy," he said. "Jane, you on-line?"

"I'm in my virtual steel box and ready to integrate everybody's feed," came her digital voice.

"Excellent, you'll be my clairvoyance for the others. What's the situation on site?"

"Well, Quicksilver, you're not going to like this. The whole place is crawling with local law. They're still freaked over Burnout, and they've got traffic closed off from all directions. Some local shaman is doing a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but he doesn't seem to be getting anywhere. If anything, that's spooking the local cops even more. You roll in there the wrong way and things could get ugly."

Axler cut in. "Ready for plan beta, Quicksilver?"